


STAR-CROSSED book I

by AnonymousMyself



Category: Original Work, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Technology, Altean Empire (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Galra Empire, I'll make it into a full blown book, Maybe - Freeform, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reader (kind of) perspective, Royalty, Torture, if I ever finish this, literally everyone has it, tagged as original work cause the entire story is kind of its own thing, the name is omited for a reason, the narration is going to change in the later books, you can give her a name or wait till we get to it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24268963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousMyself/pseuds/AnonymousMyself
Summary: Alternate realities exist. It's something you've know about but thought of passively maybe two times in your life. However, they do exist and now, you are stuck in a reality that's the complete opposite of the one you are used to.Although, the enemies may be more similar to your old foes than you'd think.(This is book I and an introduction to the world and characters that will be there with you till the end)
Relationships: Friendship - Relationship, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, in the next books that is
Kudos: 1





	1. CHAPTER I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Evaldrynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evaldrynn/gifts).



> I've had this monstrosity sit in my drafts for literal years I believe and I've finally decided to post it. It's not finished yet, I'm currently stuck at chapter 13, however I've decided this needs to go out in the world so that I can at least feel good about sharing it. It's also being posted in hopes I'll get inspired to write for it again and get through my ridiculous block.  
> This fic was supposed to be a way for me to express my distaste for plot holes and poor execution of some parts of the show *coughcough*ending*coughcough* and a way to study the lore and have fun with it. Hopefully a fix-it fic of a sort.
> 
> For now I'm gonna leave the actual shippy relationships out of the tags and maybe something gets born along the way as I go with the planned plot. 
> 
> There's going to be a lot of stuff happening here, original characters will come in for the ride as well and a lot of me playing around with the idea of alien species, cultures, technologies, history and biology will occur. Also quite a lot of trigger warnings because I'm tiptoeing in the darker topics here. It's going to have descriptions of panic attacks (with the dealing with them part but honestly that can be triggering anyway, especially since some ways of dealing with them isn't very healthy so **PLEASE do NOT read it if it triggers you!!!** ). I honestly want to see if I can actually write this stuff well, so... There will be separate warnings in the beginning notes of the chapters but still take it in consideration as you wonder whether you should read this fic or not.  
> Other than that this work doesn't have a beta and there may be some things you won't agree about as we go together on that ride and just.... yeah I just realised I'm never gonna let this thing out if I keep being a perfectionist about it because it's not a book I'm gonna get profit from so like I guess I can just go with it and get it out by letting some of the things just roll. And the characters be lucky most of the time ~~and keeping my faves *coughs*all of the Blades *coughs* alive~~
> 
> Anyway, a lot is going to happen and it's going to be _long_ (and may or may not be slow burn as well). Not to mention, the first book will be mainly focused on worldbuilding and the MC being a badass that I know you all would like to be at least a little and which I was aching to do since forever "3
> 
> That said, I hope that anyone coming around to read this monster of a fic will enjoy it to the fullest!  
> Also, the wonderful girl I gift this to, is the reason this was actually written down. The rp I had with her was the greatest inspiration and kick to the ass I could ask for, Ily bby
> 
> Oh yeah, read the tags, thx

_Princess!? What is the meaning of this!?_

_Princess! Get back on the cruiser! What you're doing is crazy!_

_Please, answer us!_

_You're not going to manage to keep the barrier up long with this small ship only! Stop covering us!_

_We have fazers! We can- What the-!_

_CANCEL THE JUMP NOW!_

**_PRINCESS_ ** _-!_

When the comms go quiet, you force the sob to stay in your throat as you do your best to quickly steady your breathing with your eyes closed.

It isn't easy to ignore your crew like that but you know you have no other choice if you want to keep them alive. The alien ships that attacked you are much better equipped than your cruiser and actually have weapons aboard, while you have only the barriers and almost completely taken down offense system and damaged engines. In other words, if you haven't used all of the ship's residue power to make a jump while covering them yourself, you would let a bloodbath happen.

And in no way would you allow your crew to die on your watch.

So you send them to devoid of asteroids quarter few systems away from the Guns' base, that looks alright on your long-distance radars. All in hopes they won't run into those aliens or Alteans again there. Fortunately they won't need your energy to navigate after that because the ship can work with the crystal alone if one doesn't try to use the teludav, and that's also a good thing they don't have any more alchemists on board at this moment, seeing how you do not wish for them to get caught.

That leaves you and your small fighter along with its crumpling barrier against a whole fleet of enemy's ships. That's not a nice perspective - you think.

How you wish you had stolen Xebec _before_ it got even more damaged...

If they decided to stop the shooting for just a moment, you might be able to make a jump of your own using the little of your energy that would've stayed in the main ship's storage. But the cannonade doesn't stop until you find yourself surrounded with pinkish ray of light which you belatedly realise is pulling your ship towards the biggest vehicle.

The pull of the ray is so strong that the remaining energy would not allow freeing yourself of it, not to mention keeping more barriers up and making a jump, so you simply wait, as you wonder what the quiznack you can do to save yourself from getting in the enemy's hands.

Then, an idea appears and the plan forms itself in your mind quickly and you wait until you're almost at the gate's level before pushing the right buttons on your suit's controls.

 _Initiating cloaking_ \- the artificial intelligence installed in your helmet announces and you don't lose any moment, leaping out of your seat and dashing towards the exit to sneak between the robots that flood the transporter short after. You are aware you have little time until the offenders realise you're no longer inside so you break into run as soon as you get into a clearing. Seriously what is even this army. Only robots and no men of any recognisable race around. And so many at that..? they remind you too much of Altean bots. They're obviously dumber, though, as the Alteans would have had a gifted officer around as well as a barricade to stop any possible escape. Not that you wouldn't have been prepared for such an occurrence.

As you round the corner, you support your back with the wall and with a cackle push the button you held all this time in your hand as the cloaking of your suit falls to save the energy for later. Bless Slav and his genius mind because without it you would be in the hands of that currently flying piece of junk.

The explosion makes everything around you shake with force you did not expect from how little quintessence the ship has been wheezing onto but you do not complain about that as it simply means you have less enemy to fight now. And it also gives you an additional weapon - you realise the moment you set your eyes on the ground before you, a blaster laying just a feet away from you. A robotic arm still attached to it. You could as well save your own energy and blast them away with this baby here.

Speaking of that... you need to get out of the way of the people that will surely flood the scene in few doboshes now. So after you strap your sword to your belt and pick up the gun from the ground you run in the closest corridor and search for any door you can pass through and hide.

That proves difficult, though, as every each of them is closed and not budging.

WHOOSH- you push yourself to the wall as the door on the end of the corridor opens, your hand immediately flying towards the controller on your forearm.

 _Initiating cloaking_.

You quickly put the additional weapon in the corner in order for it to not get noticed and wait for the soldiers to pass by you as this time you decide to leave the cloaking on until your suit loses energy or you find a place to hide.

You quickly run towards and through the opened door as the most of the massive aliens pass by and slip through the closing slit right into what looks to be yet another corridor that this time splits in many others every few meters.

As you run down this hallway with an intend to find a storage room you could use to get into the ventilation system you forget for a moment that the gun you're carrying is not synced with the suit and remember this fact only when someone shrieks at seeing a blaster flying forward seemingly by itself.

You don't think twice before firing it at the officer (well, the suit is different than of the other living soldiers so you guess the status differs too) and continue your run forward, now taking a little more time to check out whether there's no one passing by because you may not surprise everyone the way you did the first time. This is how ten more offenders drop dead before you slip in through door closing after your last victim and while doing so, firing the blaster at the hand scanner at its side.

The room you get in is filled with glowing purple light coming from screens of what looks to be a control panel situated right before you. After scanning the room for additional escape routes, you destroy the second hand scanner and drop the gun as you advance towards the computer. A language you definitely don't understand but surely have seen before blinks up at you from the panel.

Wonderful - you think, when it doesn't respond to your touch, and you glance around to search for security cameras. When you find them, you pick the blaster up from the ground again and fire, while putting the cloaking in action again to show you disappear in thin air as all footage from the room stops at the moment you destroy the electronics. You then glance at the screen. If you had more time, you would pluck yourself in and try scanning the language in order to find it in the AI's database and pluck yourself inside. But you don't, so you shrug, before firing at the panel several times, for you might as well just cause as much trouble as you can before getting caught by the unknown enemy.

After you are happy with the result, you switch the cloaking off and glance around the room once again, searching for any other possible tracking device and then turning to the vent that pumps fresh air inside. It's in the ceiling right over the destroyed panel.

You climb on the shattered screen and pluck out the repairing equipment from a small pocket at your hip. The lid falls off easily and you slip it inside the vent before jumping and lifting yourself as well, putting the lid in place afterwards.

Now all you need to do is crawl in either direction to try to find either a way out or a safe space – preferably in another unguarded control room. Along with messing around a little, of course.


	2. CHAPTER II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes them ten quintants to get a whiff of how you pick your targets.
> 
> Two more to actually make you run for your life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's old, but I can't be bothered to beta and edit it, so pls bear with me lmao. You're getting two chapters because they're short and it'll take a long while before I post another one, it's a bit of a treat ;P

It takes them ten quintants to get a whiff of how you pick your targets.

Two more to actually make you run for your life.

 _Twelve quintants_ in total. During which you manage to listen in to the talks that take place on the bridge which clearly show those aliens saying "Vrepid Sa" all the time (how annoying is that you know this phrase from somewhere, but you can't put a finger on it) are definitely some bad guys. This all leads to you randomly knocking out seventy nine more people from their personnel (most of them several times, for shit and giggles), breaking twenty doors connecting the more important routes in the ship and causing several system malfunctions just like the great genius Katie has taught you to do, while you search for a way to steal one of their ugly fighters in order to fly away and back to your ship that needs to be delivered to the base and that would be much easier to get there with your alchemy skills.

There's also a fact that during this time you have memorized the warship's outline and may or may not have destroyed two weaponries and dozens of the robots (which you learnt are called sentries) and made a plan as to how to free the prisoners that you've found out are kept on the ship as well - all in 232 vargas - but that isn't necessary thing to brag about at this moment. Really.

The only thing you haven't managed to do at this time is translating the language using the AI as it seems there isn't one anywhere in its base and thus, you still have no idea as to who in the world are those guys.

Currently you are running down a corridor, cloaking off because you've used almost all of the suit's energy and aren't in the best situation to use your quintessence to restore it quicker than it does by itself. There are twenty soldiers following you hot on your tail and as you round a corner you are met with ten more producing sort of a barricade. The stolen blaster's in your hand in less than a tick and its altered to taze purple light takes out three attackers before they manage to scramble out their own weapons. You're at their level by then, twisting in your jump with intend to knock two more out with solid kicks while you take an aim on the third and soon you are resuming the run, three more attackers down as you do your best to outrun the rest while avoiding the lasers.

"Energy status" you hiss as you jump with a twirl shooting back and taking two soldiers out and missing third one only by millimetres.

 _Eight percent_. That's one more than when you last checked. Still too little to cloak yourself and find a safe place, though.

Honestly..? You must admit the person responsible for whole action has a one big luck... or actually enough smarts to plan far enough to push you to the wall.

Just as you think this, you round a corner to reach a dead end in form of a violet force-field sprawled across the corridor, another one cutting your way out as you dig your heels in the ground in order to not land face fist on the first one. So they _might've_ actually worked you out and made a good plan to catch you. This you admit now. But that doesn't mean they won yet. Or at least you try to convince yourself as you force your shoulders to go slack and while your eyes scan the smooth walls around you, you wait for their next move. You really don't want to use your magic yet. It could come in handy later on, after all.

A sturdy fluffy purple alien with large chinchilla-shaped ears walks in your periphery of vision on the other side of the first force-field. His left hand is a mechanism you’d recognise as the commander’s of this ship, even if he didn’t have the fresh scar running through his right cheek and the nose that two quintants ago you and your broadsword might or might not have been the cause of. Really, what a loser.

"Reveal your face."

You don't contain your snort at this ridiculous demand. As if you would be cooperative towards an asshole who has been sent to _"teach those Wrurq a lesson by destroying few of their villages"_ by his boss and laughed gleefully at that. He can kiss your ass, for all you care.

 _Fifteen percent_. Five more to go and you may actually make a use of your cloaking once again and _wreck them_.

"Come here and make me." You tilt your head backwards with a sneer he can't see under the black glass of your visor nor hear through the voice distorter installed in your helmet. You just need to keep the conversation, or whatever, going. Which may be quite hard seeing how your lack of compliance causes the chinchilla's fur to rise at the sides of his neck. Touché.

Just as the thought passes your mind, a sudden force knocks air from your mouth in form of a yelp, your muscles tensing and trembling as your mind realizes like through a haze that you're being electrocuted with _a lot of_ voltage.

Your muscles give out the moment the assault stops, sizzling electricity running up the force-fields and casing out. As you fall to the ground, the gun clattering away from your shaky and unresponsive hand, you see the barriers disappear and the commander's feet stepping your way.

You try to move, but every each muscle protests against that and you realise you are left completely on that kitty's mercy. If you had enough energy for that, you would have shivered at this prospect. Or used your magic to taze him.

A one large claw closes around your right shoulder and effortlessly lifts you off the ground as the other one tears the helmet off your head. There's a pause then, the claw digging through your suit and into your flesh at what you hiss involuntary.

"You're Altean."

Your eyes shot open and you send a murderous glare in the man's yellow eye. You don't like the question in his voice, as if your race was anything but deathly.

"Don't you say, quiznacker." The hiss comes before you can stop it, boiling fury visible in your clear like gemstones Altean eyes and the shock that for a moment displays on his face is so out of place and fucking _hilarious_ you almost let yourself laugh. Almost.

"Commander Sendak, what do we do with her?" one of the officers interjects and the head turns slightly in their direction, while you're still left hanging few feet over the floor, your muscles aching but slowly returning to an use.

"Interrogate," the man drops you and you hit the ground with a pained huff, arms splaying before you to save your nose from hitting the hard surface. You barely manage.

"There must have been more of them in that ship."

Laugh builds in your throat at those words, your eyes narrowing when all of the officers before you look your way.

"As if you'd make me talk."

You just can't help yourself and your amusement. The fact they managed to immobilize you for a moment doesn't mean they have enough skill to put it in action, especially since you are willing to give up everything to keep your people out of harm's way.

Not to mention that there is nothing to break left there. And you _are_ going to break out before they accomplish anything.

Sendak grins nevertheless, most probably believing otherwise.

"I see you haven't seen the Galra Empire's way," he muses and then lifts his gaze at someone behind you. And while your brain screams in half-delight at the long-forgotten word _Galra_ \- you _finally_ know where you knew that language from! - sudden pain strikes at the side of your head and black engulfs you whole.


	3. CHAPTER III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You choke on your laugh before your body even registers new wave of pain that rips through it. Flickers of electricity dance across your skin for much longer than usually and when the assault stops you let out a short cry, your breath coming in and out in agonized wheezes afterwards. Your lungs hurt so much already and tears spill from your eyes, but you manage to catch your breath and quickly release it in a fit of giggles, completely ignoring your dizziness.
> 
> "What’s so funny?" The growl from the commander makes you look up from the ground, another amused wheeze going past your lips before they curl upwards. Bingo.
> 
> "We've got that spark going."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION! ATTENTION! ATTENTION!  
> Trigger warning for some explicit torture description in this chapter. It's pretty much _all_ you're gonna read here so if it's something that you don't like, or worse, triggers you, please skip this chapter entirely to the phrase "What the quiznack?" (without the quotation).  
> For those who'll decide to read it whole: I didn't go out of my way in the creativeness cause I may like problematic topics but at the same time I don't enjoy writing brutal stuff ~~that isn't a fight~~ and I may be or may be not lazy while at the same time I really don't want to overdo it in the mean of hurting reader physically because of what's planned for later in the fic. So uh... you can guess the things that happen but only a little is written down..? I guess?  
> Which doesn't mean it can't be triggering, so PLEASE BE WARNED.

When you come to, it's to a pounding head and stiff, aching muscles. It takes a moment for you to keep your eyes open long enough to get used to the pinkish light surrounding you but when you finally do, you're startled to notice that you're not lying but are vertically strapped to some flat surface. Your arms are bound above your head in the wrist, elbow and upper arm each, what looks to be force-field induced straps digging uncomfortably in your skin. The customary outer armour-suit that every Gun wears is gone, probably examined by some engineer to try to connect with your people, leaving you only in the under-suit.

Fortunately they are not aware it needs to be on you with your consent to use it for the latter plan to work, because Slav’s the best thing that happened to you and your allies and you will never stop appreciating him, _ever_.

Going back to processing your situation... the same straps that lock your arms up, bind your waist, thighs and ankles as well. Were you able to shape-shift on will all the time, you would escape easily but because of the exhaustion and pain, any possibility of moving around even a little has been taken away from you. It doesn’t mean you are going to be unable to break free at all, though. It’s still unspoken whether you have enough force to break the binds and you tug at the binds with full force when a swish sounds before you, indicating opening of automatic doors.

Your shoulders tense up, your eyes immediately gluing to the face of the officer that walks in accompanied by two sentries. Unease plants itself in your stomach as you wonder what are this race's methods in this field. And this wonder makes a smile bloom on your lips - summoned by nervousness, deepened by your own resolve.

"Why hello there, big kitty. I've been just starting to feel lonely," the man, _Galra_ , does not respond, just nods in the sentries direction and the robots summon a control panel and stand at both of your sides, weapons ready.

"Care to tell me your name? It's appropriate to introduce yourself when you visit someone-"

"My name's not your business." His voice's low baritone, with slight hoarseness a talent scout might deem attractive enough to use for singing.

Well, you must admit you always had sharp observation skills that strengthened tenfold whenever you were in danger.

"Suit yourself." You move your shoulders up slightly in an attempt of a shrug.

"State your rank and status."

The corner of your mouth twitches as you stare down in the yellow abyss of the man's eyes.

"The rank's 'none of your business' and the status is 'go quiznack yourself'."

He places his hand on the panel and pain runs through your body as electricity zaps from one end of the metal surface to the other.

You grit your teeth, intend on staying quiet as long as possible. You're determined to show them that the _Galra way_ sucks.

"How many of you were on that ship?" - another question appears as you gasp for air, your muscles aching from the assault.

"Sorry, can't count."

Another zap comes and leaves you panting, but the mirth returns to your eyes immediately.

"Do you work for an organisation meant to oppose the Empire?"

"I don't know, enlighten m-" the next one forces a small sound in the back of your throat. So much for keeping quiet when you're caught with half open mouth. But then again, snark is not a mute thing either.

He asks for your plans, the connections to resistance, the coordinates of your base, where you came from and some more stuff you don't really care to remember. The electrocutions change to careful beating up when it's obvious you aren't able to resist it and at some point you black out only to wake up what feels like few doboshes after, wheezing from the shock of cold water splashing over your body.

The assault continues and changes in kind for amount of times you fail to measure. Few quintants could have passed as you find yourself six times in a cell, some basic nourishment provided there along water, toilet and a cot. They do give you some time to lick your wounds and regain enough energy to keep conscious during the sessions but that's not enough to get rest needed to plan and execute an escape. Not to mention they _are_ creative.

At the twentieth quintant (which you roughly counted based on those cycles of action, but are still quite sure you've messed up something there at some point – It's not like you have a clock anywhere around after all), all joints in your hands ache at the smallest of movements, having been popped too many times to count. You can't quite lift bread to your lips and find yourself even more drained after each session and from then on you stop responding to the questions verbally. You also give up at lifting yourself on the cot whenever you are back in the cell, because it's much too exhausting.

At some point you stop keeping track of how much time passed. Just half aware a phoeb could've flown away already when the officer torturing you gets company of some skinny individual in a long purple robe and a white mask covering their face. Purple; right, that is the colour you can see everywhere on this ship as if it is the highest fashion to only use shades of it and black in every quiznacking design.

That time you aren't beaten up but clash against the newcomer that turns out to be gifted. They try to dig right into your mind but you manage to keep your walls up and steady, despite the fright that showers on you at the action. You've experienced mind mending before and it's only thanks to that and your determination to make them pay for even thinking of this idea that you manage to bombard the gifted with visions that make them stumble back.

They burst in a show of quintessence blast when what feels like vargas later you make them experience how _wonderful_ maximally heightened senses can be.

You black out five doboshes later from the enraged beating that follows.

It's a little time later that the door opens and an unexpected guest makes appearance.

"Is there any progress, Kavok?" _Oh, look, you've finally learnt his name after a phoeb of putting up with the torture_.

"She’s not talking to me." The smaller Galra shakes his head and Sendak clearly sees the building frustration in his subordinate’s posture, but he doesn’t think of it much as his eyes switch quickly from him to your form twitching in what looks to be voiceless laughter. One would have thought you had passed out by now.

The twitches case the moment you notice he's looking at you.

"I’m giving him the silent treatment for not telling me his name," you say with the most serious expression you can muster, voice hoarse from well, screaming and otherwise lack of use, eyes somehow managing to focus on the fluffy mountain before you. The smaller officer startles, then whips around, his face wearing the look of absolute bewilderment.

You ignore him. Your eyes trained on the larger Galra and a tick passes before Sendak takes a step into the room, gaze locked onto yours as his hand raises and presses to the controls, unimpressed.

You choke on your laugh before your body even registers new wave of pain that rips through it. Flickers of electricity dance across your skin for much longer than usually and when the assault stops you let out a short cry, your breath coming in and out in agonized wheezes afterwards. Your lungs hurt so much already and tears spill from your eyes, but you manage to catch your breath and quickly release it in a fit of giggles, completely ignoring your dizziness.

"What’s so funny?" The growl from the commander makes you look up from the ground, another amused wheeze going past your lips before they curl upwards. _Bingo_.

"We've got that spark going."

Kavok seems to be the first one to realise what you say as he chokes right before Sendak’s expression morphs in one of bewilderment, his hand pressing hard on the electricity-inducting handle short after.

You sputter at the heightened voltage, dark spots taking part of your vision away while your head throbs, too heavy to keep it upwards anymore. Everything hurts like a bitch but when the electricity dies and your vision blackens, you don't regret riling the commander up. Though, it'd be nice if he actually overdid that because then you'd finally get a rest from _everything_.

After that, the commander seems to become an often spectator to your torment either ordering a change of approach or silently watching you squirm. Whenever you manage to focus your sight on his form, you see something that makes him different than the quintant he caught you. And if you didn't know better, you'd call the change desperation of sorts.

It's funny to entertain the idea.

It's another of such... quintants. You're struggling to catch your breath, choking on the water you're trying to get out of your respiratory system.

"Ready to spill the beans?" Kavok tries, when the coughing dies enough for you to be able to muster anything and you wheeze, before glaring his way.

"Guess that's a no..." he mutters, before pushing your head back under the water's surface.

You immediately push back while struggling with the sentries that keep you in place. Your lungs aren't even able to keep the air in much anymore and your head is already spinning from the lack of proper inhalation. You're kind of wishing now they didn't take this in consideration and ended up drowning you but having dark and white spots dance before your eyes is as much as you get to before a forceful pull on your hair gets you sputtering and coughing again as your vision desperately tries to focus on _anything_ really.

You're half aware the Galra behind you shifts, then "Vrepid sa" sounds slightly to your left followed by a question about the progress from the direction of the door. From the size and shape you conclude it's your favourite commander.

You force yourself to tune in to the short exchange as you hack out the remnants of water and bile irritating your throat, your wheezing breath stuttering at what you hear.

"Untie her and bring her back to the cell. If she won't talk after this many vargas then a couple more won't help either."

_What the quiznack?_

It's not that you complain when Kavok lets go of your hair and the sentries pull you away from the pool, changing the settings of the cuffs to keep just your wrists together. You aren't a fan of water boarding or any other form of torture they put you through even if you _have_ managed to keep quiet about your crew and place of origin with determination that came out of your stubbornness... and possibly the fact you didn't really care whether you survived. After all you think it is better to die protecting what's still worth to you than betray your close ones and die with the knowledge you wronged them _more_.

As metal fingers dig in your upper arms and heave you up from the ground, you let your eyes wander towards the commander, finally focusing on his face for long enough to see he's more than angry.

Guess nobody expected you to keep quiet this long.

You lift your gaze back to his eyes the determination flaring in your hues, despite your constant fight for breath. And you know he notices, from the furrow of the brows and small twitch of the giant ears that would go undetected were it not for your observing skills.

The exchange lasts a moment, then the sentries drag you out and through the corridor. Your legs are too shaky to keep you up, especially with the quick peace the sentries foist upon you, so after a dobosh or two of struggling you give up and let them drag you across the identical corridors through one of the many memorised routes.

Since you know this one well, you let yourself think of all the information you've managed to collect during the time spent in captivity and earlier while roaming Sendak's main ship. Zarkon is alive and as full of power as millenniums ago, which indicates he hasn't been slain by Empress Allura ten thousand decaphoebs in the past, _which_ in return means the war has untangled in a much different way. You have spent enough time with Slav to link all the small slip-ups to a conclusion that by some miracle you've landed in an alternate reality where Alteans lost to the Galra in the war, which resulted in an exact opposite of the situation the other reality ended up in. In other words, instead of Alteans, this world is ruled by Galrans and from the look of it, this reign is no better than what you've known of earlier.

You're pulled out of your thoughts by the sentries' throwing you onto the ground.

For a moment black takes over your vision as the pain from your knees hitting the metal surface flares up and towards your head. You splay yourself flat on the floor, hands reaching forward as your breathing slows down to a silent wheeze you could call close to something normal.

The door you've been thrown through close with metallic clank and what feels like a moment after a tray slides through the gap they make over the floor.

You ignore the poor excuse of food you've been given and instead forcefully make your body relax on the cold worn out metal. At this point you honestly don't remember the time where at least some part of you didn't ache and you're too tired to try searching for a position that would lessen the pain, honestly.

It's then, though, that you hear a new set of footsteps - heavy and confident - approach your cell and the gap under the door opens again before something's quietly placed on the tray and the footsteps draw away in the direction they came from.

A smell of warm food reaches your nose right after.

You'd do a double take if you were able to, but heaving yourself off the ground, heck, turning on your back alone is a task difficult enough as each move sends pain in every part of your body with emphasis on the ribcage that screams with every shallow breath you take.

" _Quiznack_ ," the air leaves your mouth in a huff as you finally manage to sit straight, propping yourself on the unused cot's base and pressing the back of your head to the edge of the thin mattress in order to calm down the dizziness that overtook it.

Your stamina really did wear off some time ago, you guess: between the first electrocutions and the beating up that led to the current state of your ribcage and some many bones’ fractures, popped joints and bruises littering almost every part of your skin. Almost, because they mostly avoid your head, which means they know you wouldn’t be of much use if they gave you a concussion.

Right. You let your eyes fall on the bowl that now stands in the arm's reach and on the tray that was earlier pushed in by a sentry, hot steam still rising from it, which you can see in the dark only thanks to your Altean heritage. You hesitate, before giving in to your stomach's demand, questions rising at the unusual treatment left ignored as you let yourself taste the soup now held in your quivering hands.

It's warm and _tasty_. You have to put it down in order to not spill it as a sob shakes through you at the fact you're eating something normal for the first time in a phoeb or even more.

Calming yourself isn't easy, what with the pain raking your body strengthening the flow of the tears, but eventually you manage to get your breathing and trembling in check enough to drink the now slightly cooler but _still warm_ soup till the last drop.

There's just enough of it to feel satiated while not overdoing it in order to keep it down and you wonder how whoever brought you it knew just how much would be the ideal amount.

You can't keep the thoughts at that for long though as tiredness mixed with happy feel of the full stomach tug your eyelids down and with grand effort you manage to hide the plate in the nook behind the cot and drag the blanket to the ground to give yourself some cover before you drift off in a dreamless sleep.


	4. CHAPTER IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Along with the map, there's an explanation in Altean that the device can also serve as a key to the main ship's system as well as any ship from the hangars.  
> Which means whoever that was just now, they blatantly told you to free the other prisoners as well.  
> Very well. You could fulfil that request _with pleasure_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to post this lmao oops

It repeats.

Whoever brings you food, comes back every time you find yourself back in the cell.

You keep hiding the plates in the same place convinced it's expected of you since it's always brought between the patrols passing by your door but always after you are given the main nourishment (which you give your attention to once you have enough energy to chew on it) and at some point they start disappearing when you put a new one there. That only assures you whoever is helping you gather your strength, does so without their supervisors' knowledge and consent.

It's an interesting thought to entertain that there could be people like you and your personal guards here, playing double agents and helping the oppressed. Though they could've started earlier than that. Their job would be easier then and you'd be long free of the torment.

As it is now, the torture continues but you notice it takes less tool on you now than it did before. You think your body may be getting used to the electrocution as well as the pulls of the machinery and you now have enough force in yourself to position your body to receive less damage during the beatings. Of course you make a point to not let them know that because as suicidal as you are, you do not enjoy even a tic of the predicament. But when the water boarding sessions happen again, you realise getting used isn't the case.

That can only mean whoever is bringing you food, must be messing with the equipment as well.

Surprisingly enough, the drowning sessions soon cease on an order of no other than the commander. What with them not working and only endangering your life while you still haven't spilled the beans. And now, with the lack of the biggest toll on your health, your strength returns twice as quick as it did when only the food was being brought to you.

It isn't long though before the cloaked figures (that you learn are called the druids) start to come for you once again and you are forced to focus your energy on keeping up the wall they try to break while simultaneously throwing back your own attacks.

Soon, the terror you feel as they try to delve in your mind changes into cold fury and it's then that they push the wrong button and force you to use the magic you've repressed in order to have it be your secret weapon during the escape you were planning.

Only one of the druids survives and as you drift off from pain and exhaustion vargas later, words about _the witch_ deciding to take you over for experimenting rather than interrogation reach you.

When you come to after that, you find yourself back in your cell, face pressed to the cold floor despite the abrupt way you woke up from your nightmare and everything saying you're on the verge of a panic attack.

Your lungs nearly collapse of pain as you try to gather enough air in them to not pass out once again and your whole body _aches_. Dealing with different kinds of torture and the tries at mind mending is one thing, but freeing repressed quintessence and not out of your own volition has taken an unspeakable toll on you. Not to mention what nightmares the thought of whoever is that _witch_ has caused.

It's quiet and for once there is no dry tasteless bread waiting at the gap in the door and you wonder if whoever tried to help you earlier now will cease their actions in fear of getting discovered by that witch, to whom you seem to have some value.

Unsurprisingly, no food is brought to you for what you count to be vargas and you're quick to accept that, as you keep laying flat on the floor, eyes set on the plain ceiling and walls surrounding you.

At some point you drift off only to wake to unfamiliar footsteps approaching the door. They're heavy but lighter and much quieter than the person's who's been bringing you the hot food earlier, not to mention unsure. There's only one set of them too, though, so hopefully that doesn't mean it's to retrieve you.

And if it is, you're going to give them a fight.

You heave yourself off the floor, quintessence gathering at the ends of your fingers in order to strike if needed, just as the food gap opens and a plain box is shoved inside. And then the person moves again and whoever that was, leaves you in a state of confusion.

You take a moment before you reach for whatever they brought and as you glance into the container, your heart nearly jumps out of your throat.

It is your armour. In its full glory. And with no part missing. Well, other than your broadsword but it would be too hard to hide in a box like this.

You feel a smile slide on your lips as you unfold it and take your time to put it on and check whether everything is working. As you put the helmet on, familiar soft green hue surrounds you and you beam, for a moment forgetting about all the exhaustion and the injuries that still remain on your body because they need much more time to heal.

"System status."

 _Energy 100%, capability 97%, damage to the right shoulder pad detected, full cloaking time shortened to twelve doboshes, floating through space not recommended_ \- the AI's voice responds immediately. Right, you remember how Sendak's claws have torn through the material when he caught you. It isn't a big deal though, as you intend to get inside a ship and not empty space.

You sit on the cot and you remove the helmet, head softly hitting the wall behind you as you calm your breathing from excited back to normal, your thoughts running wild as you process all the information you've gathered and run through the plan you've created as you've kept getting better. You need clear head to get it to go well, so you revise every possibility, while intently listening to the signs of arriving patrol, as you glance at the box once again.

There's a small device with little glowing Galra-looking insignia at one corner laying at the bottom of it. And after you scan it for any trackers (and find none), then you get it out, it produces a small hologram showing what seems to be the full map of the ship. You study the route highlighted on it in a brighter purple that looks to lead towards the closest hangar while a patrol passes outside, unaware of the fact you would soon slip from the cell.

Along with the map, there's an explanation in Altean that the device can also serve as a key to the main ship's system as well as any ship from the hangars.

Which means whoever that was just now, they blatantly told you to free the other prisoners as well.

Very well. You could fulfil that request _with pleasure_.

With a slow breath you scan the map with your suit in order for it to be able to show on your visor, then hide the box in the nook you've used earlier, for you may as well make it harder on your captors to guess right away how in the world you could have left your cell undetected.

Then, as the characteristic sound of sentries' footsteps goes faraway for the second time, you get up, position your arm and switch on the blade build in your armour. It slides perfectly in the lock and as you move it through the gap between the door and the doorframe it separates all of the hooks that kept you inside. What a great way to keep it clean and possibly not alarm the first patrol that would appear and didn't check the locks because why would they.

You press the right button as you put the helmet on and soon enough, the cloaking fully hides you, before you slide the door open and sneak out, closing them behind your back immediately. They look as if they were never opened. _Perfect_.

You pad down the corridor, in your head revising over and over all of the paths that lead to the torture room, moving as fast as you are able with the current, still much reduced strength of your body. The map showing on the inside of your helmet helps a lot on itself as well.

Soon, you are passing by the door you've learnt to despise in the time spent in capture, and then you go further in the direction you've observed Kavok go in after few of the sessions and that is shown on the highlighted route.

As you get further and further through the corridors, avoiding bumping in the sentries patrolling the regiments, you keep a close watch on your suit's energy in order to not be rid of it when you'll most need it.

Then, you notice some officer walk out of a room that looks like some control station and you pause as you stare at the door, the thought of using the key already finding its way in your head.

 _Not yet_. - you tell yourself as you slip in a nook in order to hide for a moment it'd take to recharge your suit with your quintessence.

The person that helped you would be in much bigger trouble if you free the rest of the prisoners now, not to mention it is still a long way for you till you reach the hangers. You can wait till you're closer to the exit and _then_ free everyone.

As you move as quick as your lessened stamina allows you towards the hangar, the opportunity finally presents itself when you reach a control station you've earlier spotted on the map during one of your pauses to recharge. It's a small detour and an easy walk in, as the corridor's empty safe for the two sentries on patrol that you take out easily enough before dragging both of them towards the room.

You place one of their hands on the scanner and when the door opens, you pull them inside to hide the evidence.

And like that you walk up to the control panel, fish out the Galran device and after cutting off one of the sentries' hand and scanning the controls before you with your suit, you pluck yourself into the system.

The device seems to indeed be a key to it - you realise with satisfaction that allows you to relax just one bit - since the HUD lights up without a problem and translates right away to Altean, which, in all honesty, is very thoughtful of the person who gave you this little thing.

Next, you plug your suit in as well and quickly type on the small screen that pops out over your forearm ordering the AI to skim through the ship's system in search of all that is needed for you to have your plan work. You open the current recordings of the prison and check once again the exact way you would need to lead the prisoners through to get them to the escape pods on the other side of the ship (compared to your current position), which - no surprise here - are closer to the actual prison. It's both flattering and disconcerting to learn you've been threat special and put in a different regimen.

You block the corridors around the picked route, making sure you wouldn't get interrupted and after breaking the passwords with the help of the device, open all cells at once resulting in a flood of prisoners after a moment of unmoving hesitance.

You sigh in relief when the prisoners take the bait as doors open on just one side, which allows you to proceed with the plan as you watch closely all corridors around, making sure to lead the shortest way to weaponry so that the newly freed... Or more like almost freed people would stand a bigger chance against the sentries stationing in the halls and thus give you a possibility to join in the grand escape.

Door by door, they get closer and closer to the first check point, until finally, the next slide reveals rows of different weapons, which sight makes the prisoners cheer. You feel a small smile crawl on your face, as you open all of the remaining doors and after making sure the suit has downloaded the whole data and is now fully charged, sneak out of the room and block the hand scanner from the outside to anyone who may want to go in during the next fifteen doboshes.

You then trot down the corridors towards your destination, the key safely tucked in the pocket at your hip. You still keep yourself hidden and on alert, but don't bump into any patrols on your way to the hangars, since everyone's attention is focused on the grand escape on the other side of the ship.

As you near the hangar though, you are met with a commotion that honestly makes it easier for you to slip through because the door are constantly open in order to let the soldiers through.

You head for the fighters you notice are fit for just one pilot, knowing that this technology could not allow you to pilot a ship made for a bigger crew to manage, even if it could reach further distance. You pick a close one, to which a soldier is walking with an obvious aim to fly it. You slip in with them and knock them out quickly, putting the unconscious body in the back to dispose of later, when you'd be out of the hangar. At least this way they have _some_ chance at surviving.

You then quickly scan the dashboard for where you can plug in the key and when you find it, it's extremely easy to start the engines just as a lot of fighters around you do.

Good. That's a perfect opportunity to slip out undetected.

As you lift the ship off the hangar's floor with the others, you fish out the control panel over your forearm. It's not the easiest thing to do to pilot while you are typing in a sequence that will fish out a planet or satellite close by that would be safe to land on for you, but having been piloting different cruisers since you were a child pays off. And soon, you find a close by swap moon, you should be able to reach easily.

Just as you throw out the Galran soldier and turn the fighter in right direction, ready to push it into superluminal speed, you can see it is capable of reaching, you notice an escape pod leaving the ship. It's followed by another small ship that leaves in another direction. Both on a side different than you knew the prisons were at, especially since the prisons are the direction the fleet is aiming at this very moment.

No, the part of the ship from which the pod emerged is from very close to the hangar you've just stolen a fighter from.

Interesting.


	5. CHAPTER V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite the pain, you have to suppress another budding laugh at the startled yelp that leaves the woman as she watches your body shrink and change colour, the outer wounds reopening in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hands down? I forgot I had this ongoing oops, haha uh um yeah, anyways...
> 
> I was wondering if anyone would work out that the escape pod at the end of last chapter was the one Shiro took or not. Well.... now knowing it was, you can try guessing who helped you escape (and why) - because that's very easy I think (I'm probably gonna explain that further in the fic though so no worries). Although at the same time I'm 99.99% sure you won't guess who actually brought that warm food in for a very long time :^)
> 
> That honestly may be left unanswered till the very end of the fic (or till I post some side story for it maybe), though, because idk how I would go about it at this very moment but you can always ask me about it on my blog after this thing's finished. I'll gladly provide that information and full explanation once I know I won't make a reveal in the fic itself. After all sometimes some things in your life are left unexplained, right? Even if they _did_ have a reason to have happened. - so you may not learn everything _in_ here, while I can explain the left unexplained stuff on the blog. For now, that's a spoiler I'm not willing to share.  
> Also! I've decided to delve deep into all the alien stuff and take a freeform glance at both Galra and Altean races so I'm going to be making up a lot of stuff. Like that "you can't shape shift if you are in too much pain or too exhausted" Altean thing I did in second chapter. Not to mention, the fact Alteans are supposed to only be able to change their size (not shape) and have one skin colour at a time is a little unacceptable for me. What with the fact that they are called the perfect space chameleons because of their shape shifting forms while at the same time they simply _can't_ look exactly like the race they try to copy. I think some more shape shifting can be allowed, seeing how this race's basically full on magic space elves with the whole Alchemy and co and the fact they are said to easily mingle with other races. The show's view on shape shifting they themselves came up with is _bullshit_ and I'm going to deal with it accordingly (and I believe most of the fans will agree anyways so... freeform it is).

The Galran fighter you've stolen has just enough fuel to reach and land on the swap moon with a little amount more that you guess could be used as distraction explosion if you needed one. Fortunately though, no one seems interested by the fact the Galra that exits the ship doesn't wear the empire's armour.

Yes, you've gathered enough strength now to be able to shift, even if that took you longer than usually due to the strain that your body's still going through. You definitely need medical attention, other than a new ship and a way to communicate with your crew that no doubt is still stuck in this reality.

You contemplate your next line of action as you quickly leave the plaza where the ships of the moon's visitors are parked. You're surprised that this market looks exactly like the ones you've read about when you were a child; aliens of different races walking down the dirty streets and buying things in questionable crams. You pass a few taverns filled with loud conversations in different languages and, what you notice as you glance inside, gambling. The experience is exhilarating if you are to be honest, especially because this makes it easier for you to mix in the crowd as you soon change your appearance to match the long-limbed race of Shuivans that you've noticed selling things in few of the shops and simply walking down the run down aisles.

It's a better look to pick than Galran anyway and _definitely_ better pick than your original appearance that could be sent throughout the universe on the bounty letters by now. What's a bonus in it is that the skin colour of Shuivans is close enough to your markings' that you can hide the only thing that could easily give you out. Apart from the more and more obvious strain to your steps.

You don't really want to get back into the empire's clutch any time _ever_. But you also need to find someplace to hide and lick your wounds closed. Not to mention food would be nice too - you think as you notice with building frustration the fact you haven't eaten anything before the escape and are now pretty much running on fumes.

You aren't sure if it's a good thing or not that the different aliens you pass (the several Galra soldiers included) pay you no mind. It's for the better if you think of the fact you don't want to be found out but at the same time you're well aware it's going to be incredibly difficult to survive and keep out of trouble without anyone's help.

Frustrated with the ordeal, you let yourself rest on an edge of a fountain. The steady stream of water behind your back acts as a nice distraction from the noise around and you sigh as you hide your face in your palms, fingers longer than in your natural form digging in your hair and messing up the already shaky braid you've put them in as you prepared your second disguise.

You're tired, hungry and every part of your body hurts. Currently you're on a satellite under your new enemy's reign and have no way of satiating any of your needs. You can't even return to the ship you've stolen because it's definitely been discovered by now. Not that it would give you anything other than a place to maybe take a nap in since it definitely wasn't ready to accommodate a runaway prisoner.

Well, if all went to the worst case scenarios you could always use the bombs hidden in the small pockets at the hips of your suit and blow yourself up along with the attackers. That is, if they weren't found out while whoever tried to work it out on Sendak's ship was inspecting it.

Your next sigh ends with a stutter when you hear someone clear their throat right in front of you.

 _Quiznack_ , you should have paid more attention to your surroundings.

As you pull away with a startle, glancing up at whoever approached you, you are met with a stare of blue eyes with yellow sclera. The Galra's rather short for what you've already recollected of the race, but still definitely taller than you in your real form, her skin faint purple with even lighter patterns adorning the feminine face. Her nearly while hair is pulled back in a tight braid running over her shoulder and as you glance further down you see her wearing a dark armour-like suit that reminds you of some less formal Altean clothing you've had in your wardrobes back at the palace.

She's young, but her face is scrunched up in a way that adds her more age at the moment. She looks worried but sheepish, an obvious discomfort making her shift from foot to foot and play with her fingers as she clears her throat again.

"Yes?" you nudge her on a little harsher than you'd like and she sends you a nervous smile that very quickly turns into a determined expression.

"You look like you need some help," she announces and if your current form had any eyebrows, they would have shot up to your hairline from the bluntness she just showed.

"Oh really?" there may be sarcasm lacing your words, but you are tired and frankly not caring if you come off as rude. You know you _do_ in fact need help, but it still irks you she made it her point to speak of that. Not to mention she's _Galra_.

She shifts but otherwise her posture stays determined.

"Yes, I've noticed you a while ago. You have a limp to your steps and look to be in pain." She pauses, but seeing your silent surprise and hesitance, quickly continues "I'm a medic. I can help."

Oh.

_Oh._

Is it possible luck's still on your side?

You'd like to believe that, but you know you have to stay weary. It's not like you can't accept proposition of help, though so you nod after a pause, this way telling her that yes, you wouldn't say no to some medical attention at this very moment.

She visibly relaxes at your acceptance and is quick to offer you a hand to help you stand up. Which is a little funny because your current form towers over both her and quite a bit of other people you've met on this market. Not to mention that Shuivan hands are _large_.

She's quick to put her arm around your waist as she places your palm on her shoulder, supporting your weight expertly, even if you think you'd be still able to walk for your own for at least another varga. You admit thought it's easier to follow her lead as she pulls you towards the taller buildings further in the market's suburbs.

As you observe your surroundings, you note the change in the buildings. Although the architecture is still very much the same with rundown walls and quite filthy surroundings, it's obvious you're wandering into the heavier inhabited part of the satellite. For instance, there are much less crams here.

The woman brings you into a small apartment at the first floor of one of the bigger buildings. It's a messy place, but doesn't seem too lived in. As if the medic has only moved in the last movement or so.

And as you carefully observe your surroundings as the woman leads you towards the couch, it definitely _is_ a makeshift clinic of sorts. There are a few plants you recognise as ones helping in regulating the blood stream of few of the alien species and bottles of soothing oils and salves scattered around, some herbs are drying close to the windows and a lot of different supplies are stacked on the limited shelves and the table.

"Take off your suit. I'll get my kit," the Galra instructs as she sits you down on the couch, then starts rummaging through the cabinets.

You follow her request without a word but let the quintessence buzz just under your skin, ready to strike if need came.

You're in the process of taking off the boots in order to free your legs from the armour pooling at your knees when you hear a sharp gasp from the woman's direction. As you lift your gaze towards her face you clearly see the terror taking over her features.

"What happened to you?" she asks as she strides back towards you, taking in all the small wounds and bruises covering what your undersuit doesn't. And you look back at her, your face schooled into blank expression as you start to take that layer off as well.

"What do you think happened?" you deadpan and grit your teeth as the amount of different positions you need to put your body into makes your ribs protest loudly.

She stares at you for a while longer, fingers gripping harder on the metal box she's holding then relaxing a few times.

"I have a few ideas," she dryly supplies, then puts the box down and rummages in the cabinet a while longer, to pull out a roll of plastic. She crosses the room again with it and lays the sheet on the couch to your left, gesturing for you to get on it when you're done.

"But before I voice them, I need to ask why your blood isn't blue."

Oh, right, you look Shuivan now.

"I'm afraid giving you the reason will give you too much of a shock or result in more trouble for me," you reply calmly, then huff as you manage to pull the undersuit away from your body, all modesty be damned.

You note how she shifts and her right hand gravitates towards her hip as she hears your response.

"Unless you're one of the druids... I don't support the Empire if that's what you're worried about," she finally speaks, then startles when you let out a chuckle that quickly changes into a pained wheeze.

"And that's why you're reaching for your knife?" you manage out after you catch your breath and hers stutters as she retracts her hand from her hip. "I honestly don't care if you kill me, but I will calm you down, I guess."

And as you say that, you let the quintessence thrumming right below your skin shift you back to your original form.

Despite the pain, you have to suppress another budding laugh at the startled yelp that leaves the woman as she watches your body shrink and change colour, the outer wounds reopening in the process. Yeah, doing that while wounded is always awful. And you've shifted three times already, so the amount of pain is already numbing your need to fight. You want to let yourself drift _so badly_.

For a moment the small apartment's quiet and you use that time of pause to calm your breathing and fight off the dizziness and blur that came from the pain. It's difficult to still stay remotely alert like this but you also are aware of the fact that if you want to heal best, you need to be yourself for the treatment. Not to mention she's told you all truth till now _and_ there _is_ an exact same symbol on the woman's knife that you've noticed on the key device that aided in your escape. It could have a secret meaning for all you care.

"How in the world..."

You ignore her in order to give into the dizziness and let yourself rest on the plastic sheet that the medic's spread for you to not dirty the couch. You're faintly aware of the fact you should be fighting the dark spots dancing across your vision as well as pay more attention to the distressed sound leaving your host's mouth as she darts in your direction as you tip off to the side. But the darkness that circles you seems so much more alluring right now than anything else.

And it doesn't take a lot from you to give in.

**Author's Note:**

> Xebec - the meaning of the word: "a sailing ship", (it's also been just a type of a ship at some point); name of the ship you've boarded while on the run from the Altean Empire. It's been yours before so technically you grabbing it on the way wasn't stealing because one can't really steal something that is already theirs. Right?
> 
> Official time measures in vld for those that feel confused with them:  
> Dobosh - Altean equivalent to minute  
> Tick - a little longer than a second  
> Varga - Altean equivalent to hour  
> Quintant - 20 vargas, Altean equivalent to day.  
> Spicolian movement/ movement - eq to a week  
> Phoeb - eq to a month  
> Decaphoeb - eq to a year


End file.
